


Coming Down

by hub_batch



Series: discomfort revisited [1]
Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Coming Out, Complicated Relationships, Hurt, M/M, Transphobia, and hurt, im back at it again, im putting that just in case, pritchard gets misgendered tm, trans!pritchard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hub_batch/pseuds/hub_batch
Summary: Something something arguments and getting punched.





	Coming Down

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first DX fic I wrote (before Rub Your Eyes), so it's a little rough around the edges while I figured out pacing/character position/voice. Adam and Frank are "it's complicated" here, haha. I may come back and mess with this at some point. If I had to give it continuity, it comes before Rub Your Eyes.

"Talk to me when you've had some drastic surgery yourself,  _ Francis. _ "    
  
"Maybe I have,  _ Adam _ !"   
  
Pushed to the boiling point and spilling over, over Pritchard went, standing up from his desk and glaring at that stupid, stupid coworker. Adam Fucking Jensen, the only person in the world who'd experienced trauma, in his own little world. The words had little time to hang in the air before Adam turned his head, shades hiding the blank stare beneath. Eyebrows finally raise, the motion appearing mechanical to Pritchard in that moment.    
  
"You've got one neuro-augment. Big deal." The eye roll was in his voice. Pritchard puffed up.    
  
"Not what I'm talking about, you-" He shook his head. "I'm not here to spill my guts out to you over some petty argument, Jensen. I'm-" He turned, going to the door. "I better not see you here when I get back."   
  
\--   
  
Smoke billowed out from his lips and out into the cold Detroit air. The sounds of errant car horns and chatter filtered the street in front of the Sarif building. Pritchard sighed, hugging himself in the cold after pitching his cigarette. Damnit.    
  
He felt his loneliness now, that deep and insidious thing burrowing into his core. He felt phantom scars ache, webbing across his chest. Some days, he hated how downright  _ insensitive  _ Adam could be, but...   
  
Ugh, he didn't know. The only person who knew was Sarif. And even then, Sarif probably forgot at this point. Which was good in Pritchard's eyes- the less that knew the better- but that meant insensitivity, ignorance, was a given- expected, even. But...Ugh!    
  
Pritchard shook his head when he felt his thoughts become circular. He needed to go back to work. But the threat of Adam still sitting on his couch, invasive questions at the ready, was real. He closed his eyes and hugged himself tighter. A moment longer...   
  
The chatter had stopped, but Pritchard didn't notice right away. What roused his suspicion was the distant chanting...Then, all at once- body polluters! Devils!    
  
Pritchard jolted up, looked at the sudden crowd. A riot was on its way.   
  


_ Shit! _   
  
\--   
  
"Adam, you're stupid."   
  
The one in question hung his head, as if he were a puppy being reprimanded. "I know, Malik. I know."   
  
Malik shook her head, yet a smile played on her features. "You've been after Frank for how long-"   
  
"I  _ know _ -"    
  
"-And you've been here how many times, saying you pissed him off again-"   
  
"Malik!" Adam grit his teeth when Malik laughed. Yes, he had been up on the roof with Malik many times, yes he had been here for relationship advice a million times- yes! He had been here endlessly about how much he absolutely sucked at it all. Megan was easier, everyone else had been a breeze- but that was before everything. He was...different, now. And Pritchard was different, too, in ways Adam didn't even know.   
  
"I wonder what he meant," Malik mused, kicking her feet and staring off into the cold, dark Detroit sky.    
  
"Probably none of our damn business," Adam replied, somewhat bitter. But he wondered, too. Pritchard hadn't taken a sick day, not once since he was employed at Sarif. And he hadn't taken extended leave either.    
  
"Can't stop me from wondering, though." She put a finger to her chin, "Maybe it's just his augments."   
  
_ That's not what I meant, _ rang clear in Adam's mind, but he chose not to voice it. What had he meant, though?   
  
Adam didn't get long to ponder, as his HUD flared red with warning-  _ Riots taking place in front of Sarif Industries. _

  
"Shit."  
  
\--  
  
The throng of protestors came fast, faster than anyone had expected. Whispers of a demonstration had been spoken the streets, but that was- that had just been talk. This was- some mislead demonstration by some mislead _kids._  
  
Pritchard attempted to run back to the building, back to his office and pray Adam had a handle on everything- praying he did his goddamn _job_ \- but was caught up too quickly in the chanting, the mindless drone of expletives, of insults. He had no view one way or the other. He just wanted to get out of here.   
  
But someone grabbed, grabbed and pulled him into the crowd, and suddenly Pritchard was surrounded. His name tag spilled all of who he was to the protestors. He worked for Sarif. He worked for their enemy. Perfect ammunition for the chambered gun aimed at David Sarif's skull.   
  
The first punch laid square on his jaw and made him stumble, then the next and the next. The circle closed in, the fists and knives flew- Pritchard, caught up in the haze, croaked out a scream.   
  
\--  
  
 _Building secure._  
  
Adam sighed, the message on his HUD easing the tension, even slightly. Anyone who was in the building was safe downstairs in the labs, the police alerted. All would be resolved, eventually.  
  
He swept the building one last time, ensuring no one had gotten in nor out, before hearing-  
  
"H-ELP!"  
  
Chest constricting and heart pooling at his feet, Adam recognized that voice instantly.  
  
The thick wall of people lining the door was the only barrier to getting out. Adam opened the doors and forced the crowd back. Everything became a blur of red and people and yelling and _damnit, where was_ _he!?_  
  
The circle of people broke when Jensen slammed one to the ground, the others scattering and leaving their prey to the next taker. Pritchard looked worse for wear, his face a bloody mess and eye swollen shut. His clothes were stained red and ripped, breathing shallow but _there!_  
  
Adam scooped Pritchard up in a swift motion and pushed through the crowd again. Where to take him? The police’s barricades blocked the highway leading out to the hospital, and if he dithered too long there was a good chance he’d do something regretful to these so-called _protestors._ He had less than kind words for what he felt they really were.   
  
  
\--  
  
The protest carried on for hours before in the late hours of the night it was finally quelled. Adam sat in a LIMB clinic, relaying details to his underlings and to Sarif over the Infolink. He knew the ass-chewing he was going to get later for abandoning home base was going to be astronomical- but in the moment, he didn't care. He cared about...Other things.   
  
The LIMB clinic had been reluctant to take Pritchard back, considering _well that's- that's not what we do here,_ but a bark of an order from Adam and they scrambled to take him away. The hospital was too far...Everything before had become so hazy.   
  
The LIMB clinic was on lockdown from the riot, too- well, until Adam broke their doors down trying to get in. When it finally quelled, the police swung by to ask him what the hell he was thinking, and don't do that again. After that, he was alone.   
  
_Adam, it's Malik._  
  
A click of his jaw. _Malik. How are things_ _over there?_  
  
 _Hectic. Boss is having a cow over you two being gone, and with the media storm about to hit..._  
  
 _Yeah, I'm sure Picus will eat this up._ The sarcasm was dripping. This was becoming more and more common, the news basically reported a new protest every day. That didn't stop Sarif from making a huge deal about it no matter what, though.  
  
 _How are you holding up, big guy? I heard someone got hurt. Who?_  
  
Adam paused. Watched a doctor pass by, watched another person pace. _It's Pritchard._  
  
 _Oh, damn._ Malik gasped. _What the hell happened?_  
  
 _I don't know. He was outside when the riot started, I guess. They saw his ID and beat the shit out of him. I'm at the LIMB clinic...Waiting f-_  
  
 _Adam Jensen. Adam Jensen to the front desk._ The PA system buzzed softly, calling him up. _Gotta go. Keep you posted._  
  
He rose up out of the uncomfortable plastic chair and strode up to the front desk. The woman there was familiar from his somewhat frequent visits.  
  
"Adam Jensen?" She asked, though Adam felt she knew the answer. He nodded.   
  
"We need to confirm your identity," she said, "you are listed as the first emergency contact for a...Miss Pritchard."  
  
 _"Miss?"_ Adam frowned, "Mister," he muttered as he stuck his arm out for bio identification- lucky that his arm could still be used for that. He was Pritchard's primary contact? Since when? The receptionist looked a little flustered, but said nothing more.   
  
He was finally let in to see Pritchard. Other than a few stab wounds, he would be okay, the doctor informed. Adam thanked the doctor and was seen in, where he scanned his eyes over Pritchard. He was still mildly sedated, only to manage the pain. Adam sat beside his bed.  
  
"..Hey," he eventually said. Pritchard rolled his head to look at Adam. A bleary blink.  
  
"...Hey." He said, slowly, voice a little hoarse. His hand twitched, slightly.   
  
"Hey, Francis." Adam responded, his own voice low and attempting to be calm. It came out rough, gravelly. Pritchard blinked at him again.   
  
"Y...ou're...Hurt." He said, and his hand slowly moved to point at Adam's collar. He looked, and his coat was torn- a streak of blood was dried in its place. Ah, someone must have caught him during the riot. His healing systems had already taken care of it, it seemed.   
  
"Nope," he replied, "Just a scratch. Gone now." Pritchard's arm fell, and he grew quiet again. Much too tired to think, speak.   
  
Adam didn't know what to say either. Too much in one day.  
  
"I'm...Sorry." He finally said, the word somewhat heavy in his mouth. "I failed my job and I pissed you off at the wrong time. I'm sorry."  
  
Pritchard blinked, "S'okay." He replied, words slurring together, but as he woke up more they improved. "Don' worry."  
  
But he would, because that was only drugged Pritchard talking, and later he would be reprimanded for this all, both Sarif and Pritchard breathing down his neck for answers. Ugh. He felt personally responsible for everything in this moment. He pushed that back, hid it away. It could be dealt with later. A beat of silence. Pritchard looked as if he was about to fall asleep, and Adam nearly let him, but...  
  
"Francis," he prodded. His head rolled again to look at Adam, a vague sense of annoyance knitting his brow. "The receptionist called you 'Miss', and said I'm your emergency contact."   
  
Slow blinks, processing stunted much like his reaction time. "Mm," he hummed. "You've been, on it- since, uhm. I don't remember." He shook his head. "Receptionist...dumb. Legal name," he muttered, incoherent.   
  
"Legal name?"  
  
"Yeah," he sighed, "hard to get changed anymore."  
  
"What do you even _need_ a name change for?" Adam wasn't familiar with the process in Michigan, let alone the idea that Pritchard was trying to change his name. Confusion leaked into his voice, turning it somewhat annoyed, frustrated- force of habit. Looking for answers on every left corner and gang member brought that out in him.  
  
Pritchard thought for a while, wondered. Then, as if all at once, he pushed himself up to sit up, vague anger flickering across his features. "Y-You, you think- You think you're the only one who hates their body, don'tcha, _Mister_ Jensen- Only one in the whole world who had to get surgery when they didn’t want- get changed- ugh-"  
  
Adam stared at Pritchard with a deer in headlights look. Where was this coming from? Pritchard’s hair stuck to his face as he leveled an angry stare at Adam, a hand running through it to mitigate the wave of pain that ran through him at all his fussing.

  
"Francis...What are you talking about? What did you  _ mean  _ before, when we- argued?”   
  
A glance, thrown to Adam before Pritchard crumbled under the weight of those eyes. Some sobering jolt of realization pulsed through Francis, causing him to realize,  _ oh no. I have to say it. _   
  
"I'm," he struggled. It had been so long since he said it aloud. "I'm transgender, Jensen. That’s what I meant."   
  
Pause, hanging the air again, dangling in front of Adam. Pritchard didn't look. The pieces fell into place, though, slowly ever surely- and Adam felt guilt worm its way into his very soul and crush him.  _ That’s  _ what he meant earlier in the day. 

  
“I was- er-” He hated the narrative, this idea that his identity had to come with some story- despite the fact he most definitely had one. His arms came up and he hugged himself. “I’m a man. I’ve just- had to go through a lot to make the world figure that out too.”   
  
Frank’s chest heaved with anxiety, wondering how the ever silent Adam was taking all of this. Pritchard waited to see if Adam had anything to say, risking a glance at him. Adam betrayed nothing in his face, eyes. He was listening, though, Pritchard could tell that much.    
  
Pritchard blinked hard again. Tired, drugs still addling him but less and less. Pain was weaving in through those spider webs on his chest. He didn't know what else to say, except Adam started to fill that void-   
  
"I'm sorry." He said that again, though somehow he felt the words did not hold enough weight. "The argument. I get it now. Empathy is-"   
  
"Hard to think of when you're so heated. I understand." Pritchard shook his head, "your head is up your ass more often than not. I'm used to it."   
  
The quips felt, natural. Better than this stony seriousness, the weight of this world. However, Adam still felt uncomfortable- though, now he was making an effort to think about how Pritchard felt, and he must feel worse. He opened his mouth to say more, but turned swiftly when the door opened. The nurse jumped when suddenly a few tonnes of metal and fury were looming over her.    
  
"U-Uh. Sir, visiting hours are over."   
  
Relaxed. Augments calming, alerts on the most efficient way to dispatch the poor woman fading. He looked at Pritchard, and Pritchard back at Adam.    
  
"I'll be back-?" He posed it as a question, as if asking permission.   
  
"...If Sarif lets you off the hook again, I'll be surprised."    
  
A smile on the tech's face set Adam at ease as he slipped out of the room.


End file.
